


Taking Aim

by jalendavi_lady



Series: Winry And Roy series from fma_fic_contest [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Canon - First Anime, Community: fma_fic_contest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-26
Updated: 2010-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalendavi_lady/pseuds/jalendavi_lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Winry got her wrench-aiming skills. First anime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Aim

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Freak (251-500 words) prompt at [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fma_fic_contest/profile)[**fma_fic_contest**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/fma_fic_contest/) .

Winry Rockbell stood outside at dawn, staring at the old sack she'd stuffed with leaves and propped up against the old oak tree beside the house.

 _"How could you have not missed once?"_ Edward had asked during a game of horseshoes when they were kids.

 _You are still kids,_ a voice in the back of her head reminded her.

And she reminded it back that none of them were anymore.

 _"I don't know how,"_ she had told him. _"I'm just good at it."_

 _"You don't practice that much, Winry,"_ Alphonse had said from the safety of the sidelines. He hadn't taken his turn yet.

 _"Cheater,"_ Edward had accused.

 _"Grandmother's nearly as good at throwing things,"_ she had reminded them.

 _"Then you're a freak!"_ he had taunted, halfway good-naturedly... and half-way not.

And then Grandmother had come outside and yelled at all of them for needlessly quarreling right outside her workroom window while she was doing the most delicate wiring of an automail hand, some of the most detailed work any mechanic ever did.

She kept staring at the sack.

Sticking a horseshoe on a pole in the ground was one thing.

The thoughts going in her head now were totally different.

She rubbed her wrists absent-mindedly. They still hurt, though the bruises were finally fading and it was no longer clear just what had left them.

And then she took the wrench out of her pocket.

It was her oldest one, so beaten-up that it might not be useable for mechanic work for very much longer.

But a wrench didn't need to be useable as hardware for this.

Her thoughts were dark.

No, she was never going to be an innocent child again. Not after what she had seen and faced only a week ago.

And no one was ever going to put her in a position like that again.

The weight was oddly friendly in her hand. The feeling was disconcerting and unwanted.

 _You're not doing this as offense,_ she reminded herself. _Just as defense, just in case. You may never even have to use this..._

But the big wide world was dangerous, and she didn't want to spend her entire life within the confines of Risembool.

She'd seen Central now, and there was Rush Valley to get to some day, after all.

And she needed to learn this now, so that she might be able to pick between threatening, wounding, or...

 _NO._

She took a few deep breaths, closed her eyes, and remembered what it was like, how helpless she suddenly was, in the moment when the strange woman with the refrigerated truck turned openly dangerous.

 _You know, the man who killed your parents was probably doing this with a slingshot and squirrels when he was your age,_ the voice in her head said.

She made-believe it was the sack that had said it, opened her eyes...

...and let the wrench in her hand fly.


End file.
